Immortality Field
by elfofthedarkside
Summary: Rick has a problem, and it's not his crippling alcoholism. Takes place some time after S3. Rated M for language, graphic violence, suicide attempts, self harm, and lots of angst. My poor depressed space granddaddy and his over-caring idiot sidekick.
1. Rick Hates Therapists

**Man, I gotta stop being sucked into these types of shows. Not sure it's helping my mental health. Anyways, I'm releasing the first two chapters simultaneously because I already had them done.**

 ***TRIGGER WARNING* Mentions of suicide, actual suicide attempts, mentions of self harm, really ambiguous self harm? and lots of angst. What did you expect? You know my thought process when it comes to depressing characters.**

* * *

"Mr. Sanchez, come in." The woman closed the door behind the pair. "And Morty. Good to see you again."

The two took a seat across from her. Morty spoke up first. "Just, um, so you know, Rick hates the idea of therapy and everything it stands for. I had to trick him into coming here today."

Rick nodded, sprawling his body in the seat. "That's true. He's a real piece of shit."

She took a breath. "Alright. Well, Rick, your grandson tells me that you're quite the scientist. What are some of the things you do?"

Rick shrugged. "Oh, you know. Interdimensional travel, weapons of mass destruction, transmutation, stuff like that."

She took down a few notes on her clipboard. "Interesting. Now, there is a particular machine that is concerning Morty. Some sort of immortality...?"

"Immortality field." Rick supplied. "Yes. I set it up just to surround my lab."

"And what exactly does this field do?"

Rick rolled his eyes. "It's pretty straightforward. It prevents death inside the field. I mean, you technically can die, but not permanently."

She nodded. "I see. And this leads to Morty's biggest concern. How exactly are you utilizing this field?"

"I mean, I work on some pretty dangerous experiments. I don't wanna get blown to pieces just because I tighten a screw too much."

"That doesn't exactly line up with what Morty says you have been using it for."

Rick pulled out his flask, taking a drink and ignoring the look of disapproval from the others. "What do you want me to say?"

"I would like you to tell the truth."

"Okay. I have been using it to kill myself without the consequences of actually doing it." Rick burped. "Is that what you want to hear?"

He glanced sideways at Morty. "You wanna say something?"

"What the hell!" Morty burst out. "Of course I don't want to hear that. I didn't ask to see it, either! But here we are." He huffed.

The woman nodded at Morty. "Good. Get your feelings out in the open."

"I just- I don't even know you anymore!" Morty's voice cracked, on the verge of tears.

Rick avoided his grandson's gaze. "Did you ever?"

"I've wanted to, damn it! But you think that caring about other people makes you weak and stupid."

"Rick," The woman began, "How long have you been hurting yourself, in whatever form that takes?"

Rick shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it started in high school. But, then again, who doesn't feel like shit in high school? I got better after I dropped out, but then I met my wife..." He shook his head. "She wasn't such a great influence. And when I finally got the balls to leave, it just got worse and worse."

She nodded, taking down another note. "What type of self harm was this?"

"I mostly cut. I tried burning a few times but the scars never healed right and it left a more noticeable mark." He waved his hands nonchalantly. "Hair pulling was also a thing for a while. Probably explains..." He touched the back of his head.

"And how long have you been using this immortality field?"

He thought for a moment. "I dunno. Almost a year, maybe?"

Morty bit back a sob, but it wasn't from sadness. It was anger. "If you- you're so set on killing yourself, w- why don't you just go ahead and do it for real?"

Rick finally looked at him. "Because I'm a coward, alright?" He snapped. "I'm scared. You know this. I can't- can't deal with that shit." His voice lowered. "I want all this to stop... but I can't make myself pull the trigger. It's a release, okay? It lets out all the aggression." He glared back at Morty. "And it's not like it's hurting anyone."

"Not hurting-?" Morty was shaking now. "You think I was thrilled to find you dead? How do you think Mom-or even Summer-would react if they knew?"

"Don't bring Beth into this," Rick growled.

"Oh, yeah. It's no big deal if your only grandson stumbles upon you shooting yourself in the head, but the idea of your daughter seeing it? Too far."

"Hey, I didn't ask for you to care!" Rick yelled at him. Morty was taken aback.

"You expect us to not? You're our family, Rick!"

"You say that as if it means shit to anyone."

Morty leapt out of his seat, tears falling as his hands shook. "I'm sorry that growing up someone pounded it into your brain that no one cares about you. I'm really sorry that you feel the need to project that on me. You know how many times I've been told that I don't matter? That I'm easily replaced? And I still for some godforsaken reason still think of you as my only friend and the best family I've ever had."

Rick was silent. The woman came over to Morty's side and helped him sit down.

"It's okay. This is the place to say everything that's bothering you."

Morty scooted as far away from the side of the couch Rick was sitting on. "I just... don't... understand." He looked up at Rick. "Why you can't understand."

"I don't understand why you care," Rick mumbled. "I sure as hell don't deserve it."

There were a few moments of dead silence. The woman looked back and forth from one to the other. "Rick, I would like you to imagine that the roles were switched. You stumbled upon Morty hurting himself. How would that make you feel?"

The thought sent a wave of nausea over him, along with flashes of memories buried by time and alcohol. "I..." He felt tears pricking at his eyes. He swiped a hand up to catch any that dared to fall, passing it off as a cough.

"I guess I would..." Now it was his voice that cracked. He shut his eyes, shaking his head. "It's my fault. All of it. I drove you to this. I should have been better. After everything we went through, I should have told you how much I... how much I cared. Now it's- it's too late."

Morty was stunned into silence. The woman furrowed her brow. "Rick?"

He was sobbing now, memories of the past flooding over him. He hid his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't- I didn't- and now it's... it's too late..."

Morty gingerly reached over and back a hand on Rick's back. "Rick..." he took a deep breath. "What happened to your first Morty?"

Rick looked up, expression unreadable. "Wh- what do you mean...?"

Morty struggled to get the words out. "I know I'm not the original. Have known for a while."

Rick shook his head. "Couldn't... live without you. Had to find you again." He took a shaky breath. "I know not all Ricks need a Morty, but... I- I don't know what I would've done without you."

"What happened?"

Rick swallowed. "I'm an awful person. I... I did... experiments... drove him to the brink..." He met Morty's eyes. "I didn't realized just how far I had gone until..." Rick shuddered. "There was blood everywhere. Can never forget. So much. And my precious Morty... gone forever."

Morty moved closer, pulling Rick towards him. "I'm sorry."

Rick scoffed. "Why should you be sorry? I- I never even learned my lesson. Still treated you like shit. Even though you were never him... you were the one that fit perfectly. Your real Rick didn't deserve you. He left with no intention of coming back. I... I need you. I can't show it well, but I do. And I don't deserve sympathy. I don't deserve kindness or love."

He pulled away. "You want to know why I do it? Because I deserve pain. Every time I hurt myself, it's just a glimpse of what I do to other people. But they don't deserve it. I do."

"You don't deserve it," Morty insisted. "If you can't accept is caring about you... c- could you at least try and care about yourself?"

* * *

 **And yes I just now realized I didn't give the therapist a name. To be honest, even if I gave her one it wouldn't add to the story.**

 **Boost my fragile self esteem by favoriting, following, and reviewing! As they say in Canada, "Peace oot!"**


	2. Fallback

Everyone noticed the way Rick was fidgeting with the rubber band around his wrist during dinner, but the only one to bring it up was Beth.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Hm?" He grunted. She cleared her throat.

"Um... is there something wrong?"

He forced a smile. "Does something have to be wrong?"

She shook her head. "I just... noticed that band on your arm. Is it there for a particular reason?"

Rick shrugged. "For all the faults humans have, this thing is almost always helpful. I keep a couple on my person all the time."

Beth sighed, knowing she wouldn't get the real answer. "Okay. Just wondering."

* * *

Morty headed into the garage after he finished helping with the dinner cleanup, and found Rick exactly where he had expected him to be. However...

"Rick?"

Rick grimaced as he pressed down the plunger on a syringe filled with a glowing purple liquid, the needle being pressed into his neck. He turned when he heard Morty's voice.

"Oh. Uh, hey." He quickly removed the syringe from his flesh, tossing it across the room where it shattered on the ground.

Morty didn't respond, instead listening to... something. "There's a hum..." His eyes widened. "You turned the field on again?"

Rick avoided looking at his grandson. Morty's voice shook more than usual.

"W- what the fuck, Rick? I- I thought- I thought you were getting b- better!"

"Come on, M- Morty," Rick hissed, pulling his arms into his stomach. "Just leave me alone. It'll be over soon."

"Wh- what was that?"

"Poison," Rick mumbled.

Morty took a deep breath. "How long?"

He shrugged. "About five minutes?"

"I'm assuming there's no antidote?"

Rick shook his head. "Not here, at least."

Morty walked forwards, coming to stand next to Rick. "Th- then I'll just have to wait with you."

Rick groaned, though not entirely in pain. "No, Morty. Go. I w- wanna be alone."

"No." Even with his voice shaking, he was still stubborn as ever. He let out a sob he had been trying to hold back. "Rick... you promised."

"I promised what, exactly?" Rick snapped.

"Th- that you wouldn't hurt y- yourself anymore."

Rick sighed. "You're right." His eyes flickered across the desk to a remote. Morty sensed something was off and grabbed the remote, moving away from Rick.

Rick weakly reached for it. "Come on, Morty. L- let me have it."

Morty shook his head. "N- no. You're gonna turn the field off."

Rick managed a tiny grin. "You're smart." He coughed, blood trickling down his chin. He stood shakily, lunging towards his grandson. Morty stepped back again, and with a stagger Rick collapsed onto the floor.

"Morty..." Rick hacked onto his pristine white coat, staining it red. "Please... just wanna die."

"The only reason you're dying at all is there's no chance of me finding an antidote. But so help me, you are coming back."

Rich shook his head. "I... I'm done... I don't want to... just want it to stop..." He laughed weakly. "Finally got the balls to do it. Please."

"No!" Morty took another step backwards, only to trip over a cord running across the floor. He dropped the remote with a gasp, and instantly the sound of the field deactivating could be heard.

Morty picked the remote back up, frantically pushing at buttons and turning dials. "No, no!"

"I- it's no use..." Rick coughed again, blood beginning to drip from his nose now. "It's a specific combination."

"T- turn it back on!" Morty thrust the remote into Rick's face. Rick shook his head.

"No." He managed firmly.

Morty's eyes scanned the room wildly, until his gaze fell upon a small, open black box. The glowing purple liquid was visible. He grabbed one and held it above his own arm.

"R- Rick, y- you turn that b- back on or- or-" He shook. "Or I'll do it!"

Rick winced. "Don't."

"Turn it back on."

"No."

Morty squeezed his eyes shut, then plunged the syringe into his arm. He depressed the plunger, crying out as he did. He pulled away, dropping it to the ground. He met his grandfather's eyes, which were full of horror.

"Y- you turn it b- back on."

Rick's eyes filled with tears, but when they began to fall he noticed they were made of blood. "Morty... I- I just..."

Morty doubled over in pain, whining softly. "Either we both live, o- or neither of us do," He gritted.

With shaking hands, Rick picked up the remote. It was hard to focus, but he still frantically pressed at the buttons. He kept glancing at Morty, who had fallen to the ground and was writhing in pain.

"Fuck, Rick," He cried. "It hurts. It hurts so much. How- how are you so calm?"

Rick shook his head to clear it. "I'm used to it," He muttered. His vision was starting to fade. Only a few more...

The remote fell to the ground, and Rick took one final haggard breath before laying limp on the ground, eyes fixed on nothing.

Morty crawled his way over to him, sobbing. "Rick? R- Rick, please wake up! I- did it get fixed?"

He was answered by the familiar hum surrounding the garage. He took Rick's hand, squeezing tightly. "Come on... you can't... I... you have to wake up... it's working... you should be back by now..."

Morty sat there in silence, moaning softly to himself as he felt the poison slowly shutting his body down.

Suddenly, Rick's chest rose with a sharp intake of air. He gasped for breath, coughing. He looked up at Morty, who was close to falling over.

"Hey, hey..." He murmured. He sat up, pulling Morty close to his chest. "It's okay. I'm here."

Morty sobbed softly, though from pain or the idea of losing Rick, he didn't know. "Rick..."

Rick swallowed. "I know it hurts. It- it'll be over soon."

Morty gripped tightly to the scientist's now bloodstained coat, fingers turning white as he groaned. "H- hurts... hurts so bad..."

Rick began to say something as an idea appeared, but he pushed it away. Morty looked up at him. "Wh- what?"

Rick shook his head. "I... I was gonna offer..." He clenched his teeth. "No, you're not a dog."

Morty met his grandfather's gaze. "H- hey..." He managed. "P- please... put me out of my misery."

Rick grimaced. "I don't want to hurt you. Again."

Morty let out a short, harsh laugh. "It won't make a difference. I'll die either way."

Rick took a shaky breath, reaching up to the desk and wrapping his fingers around the gun he had left there earlier. He slowly brought the barrel to rest against Morty's forehead, which was beaded with sweat.

"I..."

Morty wrapped his hand around Rick's. "It's okay."

Rick turned away, shutting his eyes. He pulled the trigger, feeling Morty's body go limp against his own.

He dropped the gun, and ran a hand through the brunet's hair. "Shh... it's alright. I've got you." He pressed a gentle kiss on Morty's forehead as the teen's eyes fluttered open.

Morty slowly sat up, taking in his surroundings. "S- so that's what it feels like." He shakily got to his feet, helping Rick up as well.

Rick's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry, Morty. I know what I promised... and because I wasn't strong enough I caused you to get hurt."

Morty shook his head. "I know how hard it is to stop something like this. You just need another chance to resist the urge."

Rick let his stained coat drop to the floor. "I'm... I'm just gonna go to bed and clean up in the morning." Morty nodded, following him.

As they got to his room, Rick stepped inside and collapsed on his bed, exhausted. Morty entered the room behind him, and quietly asked, "You think I could... could maybe sleep in here?"

Rick glanced sideways at him. "Why? To keep an eye on me? Don't you trust me?"

Morty shook his head, although Rick could tell that was at least part of the reason. "I just figured you wouldn't want to be alone."

Rick smiled weakly. "Be my guest."

Morty nodded. "I'll go get my pillow. Be right back."

When he returned, he laid down a pile of blankets on the floor. Then, satisfied with the pallet, he turned the light off and laid down.

"Goodnight, Rick." He murmured sleepily.

"Night, Morty."

There was silence expect the sound of the two breathing, until Morty spoke up.

"D- did you kiss me?"

Rick hid a smile. "No."

"I think you did. Gay."

"Hey, you would've done the same in my position," Rick protested. Morty scoffed.

"Sure." He turned onto his side. "...gay."

* * *

It was morning when Beth came to her father's door, knocking before opening it slowly. "Hey, Dad? Have you seen Morty? He's not in his room, and-"

She stopped at the sight of the two snoring soundly. She smiled.

"Aw..." She slowly backed out of the room, closing the door gently.

"It's the weekend. They can sleep."

* * *

 **So, with that out of my system, I am contemplating another chapter. It'll just be another visit to the therapist, with some more fluff and maybe a more concrete ending. If you liked, please review!**


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